Faydin Laurlas is one of the last two people that was hired by Sir Reginald Farnesworth III a day or two ago. He claims to be a magician with some skill in charms. Faydin dresses himself in deep greens and browns and is bedecked with multiple pouches and satchels; caring what can be assumed to be components and reagents for his spells. The elf seems to be perpetually smiling as if there was not a care for him to have. This smile, you've undoubtedly noticed, hides a fiery tongue. Just the other night when one particularly drunk tavern patron inquired to the reason he wore spectacles, the elf quickly snapped that the man should drown in his ale along with a few other suggestions. However this thorned speech only seems reserved for those who catch him at the wrong moment or to those who would cross him.
This particular morning you find him entranced by a scroll that has been unfurled in front of him, various crystals and candles placed upon various points upon the leather scroll. in his hand he holds a small book filled with arcane symbols and formulae. Almost idly he traces the circle and shapes drawn on the scroll then looks back at the book. His blue eyes study the process so intently that he is unaware to the fact that he may have company.
Hadrian sits down at the table where Faydin is studying in the dining hall of the Golden Maiden Inn, the popular inn where many of Reginald's hires have gotten a room during their brief stay-over in Kura'Stan. He spoons a mouthful of porridge from the bowl in his hand, and chews the gummy stuff loudly, though not purposefully so, it's just that thick. He doesn't say a word in greeting (perhaps not wanting to interrupt the elf's obvious concentration), and instead he eyes the scroll while casually leaning back in his chair.
If Faydin glances up from his study, Hadrian will flash him a quick smile, and if Faydin gives Hadrian more than a fleeting notice, Hadrian will nod and say, "Morning." On the other hand, if Faydin is so intent on his study that he doesn't notice Hadrian's presence, he will use the full opportunity to see what he can make of the scroll, playing a mental game with himself to solve the puzzle of what Faydin might be trying to figure out. [Are there any further details about the markings on the scroll that someone familiar with arcane lore might notice? Perhaps something to point to the scroll's purpose, whether it be a ritual or perhaps a map?]
[There are arcane symbols pointing to the fact that it is a ritual scroll, not a spell scroll as there are no words on it, only symbols and shapes.]
Faydin's attention was broken at the sounds of loud chewing. He almost seemed shocked out of his study as he stared at Hadrian for a moment as if he'd never seen another being in his life. The corners of the magician's mouth curved upwards into a smile, then a laugh escaped from his throat. He closes his book and wraps the leather thong around it, then finally setting it down on the scroll. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he greeted Hadrian. "Min Arien" He lilted back at Hadrian, "Is it that tough to chew?" Faydin inquired of the other hired hand. The elf shifted himself crossing his legs in the seat.
"Not as tough as you'd find in Thorin, but then again the dwarves put actual iron flakes in their gruel. I think they make it this way on purpose here so it lasts longer," says Hadrian as he stabs his spoon right in the middle of his breakfast. He puts the bowl on the table, apparently having had enough of it -- the spoon stays standing straight up.
"So," says Hadrian, cocking his head to the side, "What brings you on this merry adventure? I mean, me, I was going back that way anyway." He thumbs over his shoulder. "I just came over to Quivera on a quick job. I ran into Reginald Dragonseeker at the Hall of Travelers, and since me and him go back a ways, he asked me to wait a couple days before heading to back to Lindora and help guide his group here through the nasty countryside that east of here has become." Hadrian shrugs, "I know the roads. Done my share of crossing borders and the like. So I figure, I was going that way anyway, why not wait a couple days and get paid to do the walking I was gonna do for free anyway. But I never met an elf yet to do something for the money. So it got me curious as to why you're interested in going into the Izel-Helhouse that Halgudar is nowadays." Hadrian reaches out and takes his breakfast bowl, shovels a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. He points his spoon at the wrapped scroll on the table, and says with a mouthful, "Sumfin' t'do wif that rit'chl scrull, maybe?" And the chewing goes on.
Faydin looked momentarily repulsed at the thought of eating iron flakes with gruel. He shuddered visibly, "I don't know how they could stomach it. I can only imagine the iron scratching and tearing its way down." He put a hand to his throat as if he was trying to get the feeling of the iron flakes out of his own throat, then stopped as he witnessed the spoon as it stayed vertical instead of falling to the sides,"Dear moere I'm glad I didn't eat that."
"Oh no, I could hardly preform any sort of arcane or eldritch ritual with this thing," he said waving his hand over the leather scroll, "This is just for a few of my charms. My Grandmother Ylliriel gave this to me as a parting gift. She's to teach me more if I can slip back into Doro Yedhel. As for why I am here, well I figure that my folk have a tendency to not react as quickly as they should, and for one a horde of undead sounds alot like reason to move as a forest fire to me."
The elf sighed,"And it has been more than seven years since the queen died, shouldn't we open our woods? My Grandmother said it would be good if I brought her news to petition the counsel with and so far it seems as though all of Xaria is waist high in wars, walking dead, and general unpleasantness."
Faydin shook his head wearily, then brightened "I hope that answers your question?"
"Oh, you really have to understand, Thorin really isn't like the rest of Xaria," Antillia says warmly as she makes her way down into the common room, having caught part of their chat. And it is true, they do put it in the gruel. It helps strengthen the blood and the body, but dwarves are made of sterner stuff than you and I."
The blonde adjusts her wimple and then quietly orders a bit of breakfast for herself. "And how are you gentlemen this morning? I trust you slept well?" She smiles at the elf as she sits- not at his table but nearby. "And can we not talk about undead hordes, please? I'd rather hope we can avoid Lindora and everything there. Or is it being called Urth now?"
"Just so I understand -- and please correct me if I've gotten this wrong -- you hope to stir your people to action with news of impending doom that may eventually threaten your own homeland if gone unchecked. So you've decided to march into the heart of evil to get an up close, first-hand look at it." Hadrian raises his wooden mug (which steams with a husky scent), and says in as sincere a manner as he's able, "Here's to patriotism, and to those far more heroic than I." He goes to take a drink from his mug but gives a pained start halfway through. Holding his hand to his lips, he chuckles at himself, "Hot."
Hadrian rests the mug back on the tabletop. With his eyes down as he brushes his lap where some of the steaming liquid spilled, he asks nonchalantly, "If you don't mind me asking, what magical talents do you hope to bring to bear against, um..." Hadrian purses his lips, at a momentary loss as he searches for the right word, and looking up at you he leans forward and says quieter to keep it between the two of you, "Well, you know, uh, the...what'd the sign call it? 'Shambling nightmares,' I think it was?" He rubs his stubbled chin, and your keen perception catches hints of memory flicker in his eyes. "I don't mean to pry if that's too personal a question," says Hadrian, "Some human wizards get VERY touchy about it. Believe me, I know from first hand experience."
"I'm not sure Arwen," the elf said to the healer smiling broadly, "Though I will refrain from speaking about them. From what I've heard though it was currently known as Urth. Though why not something a little more formal is beyond me."
The elf then turned from the lady to address the other man at his table, "That seems to be the short of it yes," Faydin said thinking almost aloud,"It is mostly my Grandmother's idea though I agree with her completely." The elf turned quickly to his scroll and moved one of the crystals on it," As for my magik, I mostly was taught spells that effect the mind. So for the most part I don't think I would be of too much use against the "shambling nightmares." I do have a few spells to mend things and one or two spells that could work on the dead," the magician shifted in his seat again then looked up," Which I am eager to try actual." Almost as an after thought he added loud enough of both the lady and Hadrian to hear," I wonder why they would be so tender about it. It isn't a terribly personal question I would think."
This particular morning you find him entranced by a scroll that has been unfurled in front of him, various crystals and candles placed upon various points upon the leather scroll. in his hand he holds a small book filled with arcane symbols and formulae. Almost idly he traces the circle and shapes drawn on the scroll then looks back at the book. His blue eyes study the process so intently that he is unaware to the fact that he may have company.
Hadrian sits down at the table where Faydin is studying in the dining hall of the Golden Maiden Inn, the popular inn where many of Reginald's hires have gotten a room during their brief stay-over in Kura'Stan. He spoons a mouthful of porridge from the bowl in his hand, and chews the gummy stuff loudly, though not purposefully so, it's just that thick. He doesn't say a word in greeting (perhaps not wanting to interrupt the elf's obvious concentration), and instead he eyes the scroll while casually leaning back in his chair.
If Faydin glances up from his study, Hadrian will flash him a quick smile, and if Faydin gives Hadrian more than a fleeting notice, Hadrian will nod and say, "Morning." On the other hand, if Faydin is so intent on his study that he doesn't notice Hadrian's presence, he will use the full opportunity to see what he can make of the scroll, playing a mental game with himself to solve the puzzle of what Faydin might be trying to figure out. [Are there any further details about the markings on the scroll that someone familiar with arcane lore might notice? Perhaps something to point to the scroll's purpose, whether it be a ritual or perhaps a map?]
[There are arcane symbols pointing to the fact that it is a ritual scroll, not a spell scroll as there are no words on it, only symbols and shapes.]
Faydin's attention was broken at the sounds of loud chewing. He almost seemed shocked out of his study as he stared at Hadrian for a moment as if he'd never seen another being in his life. The corners of the magician's mouth curved upwards into a smile, then a laugh escaped from his throat. He closes his book and wraps the leather thong around it, then finally setting it down on the scroll. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he greeted Hadrian. "Min Arien" He lilted back at Hadrian, "Is it that tough to chew?" Faydin inquired of the other hired hand. The elf shifted himself crossing his legs in the seat.
"Not as tough as you'd find in Thorin, but then again the dwarves put actual iron flakes in their gruel. I think they make it this way on purpose here so it lasts longer," says Hadrian as he stabs his spoon right in the middle of his breakfast. He puts the bowl on the table, apparently having had enough of it -- the spoon stays standing straight up.
"So," says Hadrian, cocking his head to the side, "What brings you on this merry adventure? I mean, me, I was going back that way anyway." He thumbs over his shoulder. "I just came over to Quivera on a quick job. I ran into Reginald Dragonseeker at the Hall of Travelers, and since me and him go back a ways, he asked me to wait a couple days before heading to back to Lindora and help guide his group here through the nasty countryside that east of here has become." Hadrian shrugs, "I know the roads. Done my share of crossing borders and the like. So I figure, I was going that way anyway, why not wait a couple days and get paid to do the walking I was gonna do for free anyway. But I never met an elf yet to do something for the money. So it got me curious as to why you're interested in going into the Izel-Helhouse that Halgudar is nowadays." Hadrian reaches out and takes his breakfast bowl, shovels a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. He points his spoon at the wrapped scroll on the table, and says with a mouthful, "Sumfin' t'do wif that rit'chl scrull, maybe?" And the chewing goes on.
Faydin looked momentarily repulsed at the thought of eating iron flakes with gruel. He shuddered visibly, "I don't know how they could stomach it. I can only imagine the iron scratching and tearing its way down." He put a hand to his throat as if he was trying to get the feeling of the iron flakes out of his own throat, then stopped as he witnessed the spoon as it stayed vertical instead of falling to the sides,"Dear moere I'm glad I didn't eat that."
"Oh no, I could hardly preform any sort of arcane or eldritch ritual with this thing," he said waving his hand over the leather scroll, "This is just for a few of my charms. My Grandmother Ylliriel gave this to me as a parting gift. She's to teach me more if I can slip back into Doro Yedhel. As for why I am here, well I figure that my folk have a tendency to not react as quickly as they should, and for one a horde of undead sounds alot like reason to move as a forest fire to me."
The elf sighed,"And it has been more than seven years since the queen died, shouldn't we open our woods? My Grandmother said it would be good if I brought her news to petition the counsel with and so far it seems as though all of Xaria is waist high in wars, walking dead, and general unpleasantness."
Faydin shook his head wearily, then brightened "I hope that answers your question?"
"Oh, you really have to understand, Thorin really isn't like the rest of Xaria," Antillia says warmly as she makes her way down into the common room, having caught part of their chat. And it is true, they do put it in the gruel. It helps strengthen the blood and the body, but dwarves are made of sterner stuff than you and I."
The blonde adjusts her wimple and then quietly orders a bit of breakfast for herself. "And how are you gentlemen this morning? I trust you slept well?" She smiles at the elf as she sits- not at his table but nearby. "And can we not talk about undead hordes, please? I'd rather hope we can avoid Lindora and everything there. Or is it being called Urth now?"
"Just so I understand -- and please correct me if I've gotten this wrong -- you hope to stir your people to action with news of impending doom that may eventually threaten your own homeland if gone unchecked. So you've decided to march into the heart of evil to get an up close, first-hand look at it." Hadrian raises his wooden mug (which steams with a husky scent), and says in as sincere a manner as he's able, "Here's to patriotism, and to those far more heroic than I." He goes to take a drink from his mug but gives a pained start halfway through. Holding his hand to his lips, he chuckles at himself, "Hot."
Hadrian rests the mug back on the tabletop. With his eyes down as he brushes his lap where some of the steaming liquid spilled, he asks nonchalantly, "If you don't mind me asking, what magical talents do you hope to bring to bear against, um..." Hadrian purses his lips, at a momentary loss as he searches for the right word, and looking up at you he leans forward and says quieter to keep it between the two of you, "Well, you know, uh, the...what'd the sign call it? 'Shambling nightmares,' I think it was?" He rubs his stubbled chin, and your keen perception catches hints of memory flicker in his eyes. "I don't mean to pry if that's too personal a question," says Hadrian, "Some human wizards get VERY touchy about it. Believe me, I know from first hand experience."
"I'm not sure Arwen," the elf said to the healer smiling broadly, "Though I will refrain from speaking about them. From what I've heard though it was currently known as Urth. Though why not something a little more formal is beyond me."
The elf then turned from the lady to address the other man at his table, "That seems to be the short of it yes," Faydin said thinking almost aloud,"It is mostly my Grandmother's idea though I agree with her completely." The elf turned quickly to his scroll and moved one of the crystals on it," As for my magik, I mostly was taught spells that effect the mind. So for the most part I don't think I would be of too much use against the "shambling nightmares." I do have a few spells to mend things and one or two spells that could work on the dead," the magician shifted in his seat again then looked up," Which I am eager to try actual." Almost as an after thought he added loud enough of both the lady and Hadrian to hear," I wonder why they would be so tender about it. It isn't a terribly personal question I would think."
Cont'd
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